


Spoils of War

by A_Diamond



Series: Pornalot 2017 [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Conquest, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Prince Arthur, Prince Merlin, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 23:36:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11793807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Diamond/pseuds/A_Diamond
Summary: Declaring war on Essetir had been a mistake, though the admission would never leave Uther’s lips. Camelot was outmatched, badly.





	Spoils of War

**Author's Note:**

> For the Pornalot prompt: (Con)quest

Declaring war on Essetir had been a mistake, though the admission would never leave Uther’s lips. Camelot was outmatched, badly, and the only thing that stopped Dragonlord Balinor from driving them back across their own borders and burning Camelot in his wake was Balinor himself. He was the most powerful warlock in all the Five Kingdoms and beyond, but he had no ambition to rule lands outside his own.

Instead, after the first day of battle had closed with Camelot’s men at two-thirds of their original number, Balinor came to their camp under a negotiator’s flag with his son and an offer.

“My people honor the old ways,” he said. He and his heir Merlin stood on one side of the fire at the center of Uther’s tent, while Uther and Arthur stood on the other. Uther glared at Balinor; Merlin glared at Arthur. “Worthiness in our laws is determined by the strength of the ruler, not his army.”

Dark shadows collected in Uther’s furrowed brows, sharp against the warm orange glow splashed across the rest of his face. “You propose we duel for the fate of our lands?”

Balinor’s hair flew wildly as he shook his head. “You and I are old men, we’ll be dead before long. It’s our sons who must prove themselves.”

In the firelight, Merlin’s narrowed eyes shone gold. Arthur couldn’t drag his own gaze away, even though it meant the disrespect of not looking at Balinor when he said, “You could rout us.”

He felt the heat of his father’s disapproval even stronger than the flames, but kept his eyes on Merlin. It was a truth known to everyone in the tent, even if not a flattering one for Camelot “Why not press your advantage? Why risk your sovereignty?”

But Balinor didn’t answer him, and Merlin kept staring fiercely at him, and Uther accepted the terms for him.

/

It wasn’t a fair fight. No one expected it to be. 

Arthur had been trained for battle since he was old enough to curl his hand into a proper fist and trained to throw a punch. Then once he could hold a dagger, and a bow, and so on. The champion of Camelot, he was peerless. Undefeated.

In contrast, Merlin was a scrawny thing who looked like he’d never seen the right end of a sword and wouldn’t know what to do with it if he did. If their challenge were a tournament batch, Arthur could’ve destroyed him in seconds with a sword or flail. Barehanded grappling perhaps a bit longer — he seemed a slippery one.

But it wasn’t a tournament, and Merlin’s prowess in a melee hardly mattered. Rumor had it that for all the Dragonlord’s legendary magical strength, his heir matched or even exceeded him.

Arthur knew, facing off in the center of the cleared battlefield, that the outcome of their fight could only go one way. From Merlin’s wide, easy grin, so did he.

/

“You cheated.”

The two of them were alone in Merlin’s tent. Larger and more opulent than Arthur’s, it even boasted a full bed with flowing canopies draped from towering wooden posters. Chains looped around those columns, gold and garnet that ought to have been too delicate to hold, but of course there was magic involved. They wrapped like decoration around Merlin’s wrists and ankles, shining against his bare and oiled skin: the representation of a kingdom conquered, submissive to its future king.

“Did I?” Arthur asked idly. He still wore his armor, barely scuffed from the fight, and also now a crown; not his own circlet, but the crest of the Dragonlord. He set that aside first. Uther was still King, even if Arthur had been the one to win him Essetir. Next, his greaves and bracers, all the while admiring the prize of war awaiting him.

Merlin’s eyes never left his; never stopped glowing gold. “You know you did. My magic had no effect on you.”

“Maybe you’re just bad at magic.”

“I’m not!” The teasing challenge of Merlin’s tone dropped away to genuine outrage, and Arthur had to laugh.

He also had to finish peeling off his smallclothes and claim his tribute, because the surly look on Merlin’s face was too enticing.

“Or maybe I did cheat.”

Arthur knelt on the bed, positioning himself between Merlin’s spread thighs. The chains holding his ankles were long enough to allow Arthur to lift each leg and rest them over his shoulder; Merlin’s cock bounced against his stomach with the movement, long, slender, and flushed full.

“Maybe a powerful warlock gave me a sword spelled with dragon’s breath so I couldn’t lose.”

He’d been prepared — or prepared himself, for a conquered prince was still a prince. It had been done well; Merlin’s hole was slick and loose. All Arthur had to do was push the head of his prick against it and it yielded to him. Not without resistance, just as Merlin’s kingdom, but also as easily overcome.

“Oh,” Merlin gasped as Arthur sank into him, slow and inescapable, “Arthur!”

“I think you mean to call me sire.” Arthur smirked.

“I didn’t. Prat.” Merlin’s insult lost its power beneath the breathiness of his voice, the way his legs tightened around Arthur to drive him on. “I’ll never.”

Pulling out only to thrust back in harder, Arthur delighted at the hot grip of Merlin around him and the tender moan that broke from Merlin’s lips. After another, he had to point out, “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have given me Excalibur.”

Merlin opened his mouth to retort, but Arthur stopped it short by leaning in, bending him nearly double, and plundering Merlin’s mouth with the same intensity as he plundered his body. Any illusion of passivity gone, Merlin responded in kind, rocking himself back onto Arthur.

/

“The world we make will be beautiful,” Merlin whispered, late into the night when they’d exhausted themselves. “Albion will be peaceful and prosperous with you as her king.”

“And you by my side.”

“Always.”


End file.
